Like Stone
by D. M. Evans
Summary: 20 years after Jasmine's reign and the battle with the first, things still aren't easy going for Angel, Buffy and their friends and family
1. The meeting

LIKE STONE Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin John Webster - Duchess of Malfi  
  
By: D. M. Evans Disclaimer - As always, Joss owns all characters. The only thing I own are the few OC's you'll see in here. Lyrics, poetry and prose will be marked appropriately so we'll all know who owns them. In all cases, it's not me. Feedback - that would be lovely. Ripewickedplum2@yahoo.com Rating - R Spoilers - All the way to BtVS S7 and AtS S4's finales. Summary - 20 years after the battle with the first and the aftermath of Jasmine's reign, life still isn't easy for Buffy and Angel and their friends and family.  
  
CHAPTER ONE - CONNOR Please could you stay awhile to share my grief  
  
For its such a lovely day  
  
To have to always feel this way  
  
And the time that I will suffer less  
  
Is when I never have to wake Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved  
  
The blackness of darkness forever Wandering Stars -Portishead  
  
The sound of crushing bone, a distinctive visceral noise, could make your guts clench. I felt the give of tissue and bone under my hands and it woke me up. The room reeked of fear and sweat. I tore the clammy sheets away from me and rolled to my feet. Ever since I was twenty years old, the bone- crunching dream had stalked my resting hours. Twenty solid years of nightmares and still counting. One would think I'd find expiation by now. Expiation, listen to me. You'd think I was some genius instead of a demon hybrid raised uneducated in hell. That's the real bitch of it. When Dad's soul-bought spell broke twenty years ago, a mere two years after purchase, everything went back the way it should be. Everyone remembered Connor Angel once more and I was no longer Connor Connolly, top of his class in conservation biology, older brother to two happy sisters and boyfriend to Amber Rose left raped and beaten to death by the fountain in the campus quad. That Connor faded away like he never existed, and well, he hadn't. Only I remembered being that boy, his family, his loves and hates. His Amber Rose.  
  
Amber Rose, the red-headed girl who changed everything. I went out onto my back porch, letting the breeze caress my perspiration-slick body, trying to give Amber Rose back to the night. Story of my life, really. When things go unbelievably bad, there's a woman involved. It's not their fault. I have nothing but respect for women. I think it's more a case of the sins of the father being visited on the son. Dad had no luck with women. After spending his youth whoring around, fathering who knows how many bastards and somehow avoiding syphilis, he got killed in an alley by, appropriately enough, a one-time syphilitic prostitute, dear old Mom. Then came the gypsy girl who led to his curse then there was Buffy, simultaneous salvation and ruination. And let's not forget Cordelia, who damn near destroyed us both. But I think that came of the demon-ness that was added to her, that and her own ambitions to help the world. Plenty of hubris, always leads to one hell of a fall.  
  
God, Cordy's been gone nearly fifteen years now. It wasn't hard to evoke her in my mind. A picture of her hung in my bedroom. Kate always complained about the sterileness of my little townhouse. Maybe spending half my life in hell on the run made some kind of barrier in my mind when it comes to decorating. The only photos I have on display are the four in my bedroom; one of me and my partner on a boat, two of Amber Rose and myself and one of Cordy. My den is covered in photos but they aren't decoration and I never allow guests in there.  
  
The picture of Cordy isn't the Cordy I knew. She was younger, though not by much. Her hair was long, dark and complimentary of her beautiful skin. She had just a bit more weight in all the right places. I had stolen the picture from the Hyperion. I knew Angel would have given it to me but I couldn't ask for it. I couldn't ask for anything from him.  
  
Cordy never recovered from our daughter's birth. Her mind hadn't been repairable. Wolfram and Hart had only been keeping her alive for her potential to breed beings of power thanks to the demon-ness spliced into her. Dad had realized Wolfram and Hart's deceit even before I came back to myself, probably because Cordy turned up pregnant at the home they kept her in. She lost that monstrosity. She was spirited away when Dad and the others tried to step in to rescue her from the nursing home Wolfram and Hart had placed her in. They were trying to keep the law firm from hurting Cordy more but all they managed to do was lose her. I didn't blame them for that. I tried to help them myself but we just didn't have enough clues. She died in birth giving Bath England, her body dumped in the gardens of Rupert Giles as a sick joke.  
  
Hers was the first funeral I'd ever attended. I hadn't known how much I still loved Cordy until they put her in the ground. At the wake, I wept most of the night over beers with Dad. It was the first time, after telling him to fuck off to hell for what he had done to me, that I had spoken to Dad for any length of time outside what was needed for work. Neither of us could summon up the forced cheeriness that goes with wakes. No, the two Irishmen bawled like babies, closer to each other that night than ever before or since. Buffy and her sister couldn't make it to the funeral. They got snowed in in Cleveland.  
  
I've since met Buffy but never Dawn. Buffy and Faith paid me infrequent visits to enlist my brute strength as necessary. I didn't fight demons full time but if they needed me, I was theirs, especially Faith. Once they got me into something so apocalyptic, I had to break the rule about not working with Angel. Buffy had come to me more than once to plead Angel's case but I wasn't ready to forgive him. I guess I'm a mean little bastard with a big grudge. I have nothing against Buffy personally. I liked her actually and I had been convinced to go to the little night time wedding held in the Hyperion's courtyard for her and Dad a decade ago. The courtyard had been stripped of jasmine and planted with gardenias and roses. Wes told me they were Cordy and Fred's favorites.  
  
Fred had died even before I came back to myself. Wes said as far as they could tell she had been the first to realize something was wrong at Wolfram and Hart, that her research was being exploited. There hadn't been enough left of her to bury.  
  
Buffy's wedding was small, just Wes and Faith there for Dad since Gunn had been lost to whatever Wolfram and Hart had done to him. He was solidly with them still. Willow and Giles had returned from England for the event. Xander already lived in L.A., working for Dad. Dawn was going to art school in New York City. I had walked out of the ceremony before I even met her. I just couldn't be there, celebrating the marriage of a vampire to a Slayer. It was too perverse. Worse, there had been years of wasted research to make it possible, to make Dad's curse permanent. Who cared if a demon could love? I guess I was in the minority in that respect.  
  
I headed back inside the townhouse, stepping over Moocher. My cat resembled nothing so much as a bowling ball with eyes. Solid black with a few white hairs on his chest, he had grown into a monstrosity from the day Kate gave him to me, saying I needed companionship. Now he was nearly two feet long from nose to tail tip and almost twenty pounds. I didn't over feed him but he loved to beg. He gave me a filthy look for excluding him from my foray into the back yard, which was his territory; a handkerchief of land just off the porch, hemmed in by a tall privacy fence on all three sides.  
  
I went into the bathroom and ducked my head under the spigot, trying to wash away the dark memories. As usual, they're far too ingrained for that. Once I had my bone-crushing dream, I'm always up for the night. I looked at the man in the mirror and saw a kid staring out at me. Wes figured it to be my demon aspect. My aging had slowed down somewhere just past puberty. I might be forty but I look sixteen. It was getting troublesome, especially at work. I might have to finally take Wes and Buffy up on their offers to be a Watcher, where my weirdness would be accepted. I wouldn't mind that. I had liked Giles and mourned his passing last year. At least it was quiet, a heart attack in his sleep. Wes was in his fifties now and Buffy was closing in on them. She was still pretty amazing in the work place from all accounts. She didn't do much active slaying but she had gotten good with training all the young Slayers and with the research, too. Things on that account had begun to equalize. The energy was going back to being stored up instead of spread to all the Potentials. Wes speculated that in a generation's time, it would be back to the old ways, one girl in here generation and all that shit.  
  
Maybe I could be a Watcher but I wasn't quite ready to give up my gold shield. I have Amber Rose to thank for that. She wanted to be a lawyer. I remember everything about the day I first saw her at one of the homecoming parties when I was still Connolly. We fell hard for one another, two idealists. I was going to make the world a greener place, nurse back endangered species. She was going to be a woman's advocate, but Erick Witherington crossed her path. What an appropriate name. Everything he touched withered and died. My world felt like it ended the day Amber Rose lost her life. I was so distraught, my Not-Father had me sent to the country for a 'rest.' I never even attended her funeral. The police had questioned me mercilessly, even trying to drag me out of the sanitarium until DNA cleared me and linked Amber Rose's death to a string of homicide- rapes. How terrified had my love been when she died? Tears still stung my eyes any time I thought about her. Twenty years since she was gone and memories of Amber Rose reduced me to tears.  
  
Amber Rose had been carrying quintuplets, mine. I hadn't known that at first. I remembered them telling me she had been pregnant and Father sending me away after I collapsed. Later I found out that the law firm she had done an internship at had given her drugs. Fertility drugs and Wolfram and Hart, a bad mix at any time and this time it was designed to exploit me. Angel should have realized they'd never just let me go. They wanted to bring more super-powered beings into the world and hoped my unique DNA would give them that. But at the time, all I had known was I had lost my lover and my future.  
  
Connor Connolly's world truly ended when a judge have given Witherington a week out of jail to set his affairs in order after his conviction. Witherington had gone straight back to the clubs, looking for another victim, right by the college like usual. By sheer luck, I found him when I was out getting some emergency alcohol for my fraternity and cornered him in an alley. I hadn't meant to kill him, or at least I don't think so. He deserved it for murdering all those women, for killing Amber Rose and our unborn children. I had hit him once and only once. My fist went straight through his skull. There were no words for the panic that enveloped me, standing there in the filth with Witherington doing a death jig on the end of my arm, almost up to my elbow I had pushed my fist so far through his head.  
  
Connor Angel didn't surface immediately, luckily. Connolly remained in control. I burnt my bloody shirt in the first homeless camp fire I found. I washed all the blood off in the fountain Amber Rose died beside. The police of course looked at me and the families of Witherington's other victims. Witherington had had a passport issued under a false name and ticket to a country that wouldn't extradite to America. If I hadn't killed him, he would have fled. My fraternity brothers alibied me without me even asking, telling the cops I had been at a house party that night. And I had been until I went out for that alcohol run. In the end, no one really looked hard for Witherington's killer.  
  
But that murder was the first thread and like many things, one good pull on a string and everything unravels. I started having dreams of vampires and women with maggoty heads. I thought I had had another nervous breakdown. Quickly enough, the spell snapped completely and I was myself once more. And I have hated my father ever since for trying to erase my existence. Despite everything since then, all he's tried to do for me, I have remained like stone, unmoving, unforgiving.  
  
I looked at the clock. It wasn't even midnight. Today was my day off so I had been in bed early but that had come to an end with that dream. It was time to find a little help getting through the night. After Amber Rose's death, I turned to Wes. He helped me readjust, helped me reestablish my identity. Connor Connolly might have been a lie but something about that experience helped me not descend into the madness I had suffered before it. Maybe because I remembered having a family and realized it wasn't the cure- all I had thought it would be. I still suffered, and continue to suffer, from loneliness and depression, the sense of total alienation but being Connolly had allowed me to cope.  
  
But no one remember Connolly. No one recalled a lot of things, especially in the days during and just after the Beast's rain of fire and Jasmine. No one really recollected a crazed kid taking over a mall. Even I had no clear memories of that, more due to the fugue caused by my descent into madness or something close to it. So many deaths had happened during the rain of fire that one blonde little girl's murder had been forgotten. Only I remembered kidnaping her, letting Cordelia slaughter her. I've only told three other people, Wesley, Kate and Faith. Faith took it to her grave.  
  
I missed her so much some nights, especially ones like tonight. The night after Cordelia's wake, Faith had sensed my pain, my neediness and practically screwed me right into the ground. I was thankful for that. Then she left me, explaining her warped sense of one night then get gone. Later, she made exceptions and we had a wild sexual relationship lasting years. I think she craved my strength, my roughness. I could match her and we could be ourselves without having to worry about the damage we could do. Oh, we were never boyfriend-girlfriend. She wasn't in L.A. all that often but when she was or if I got to travel, it was tempestuous. She went out in a blaze of glory in the wilds of northern Wisconsin, just like she wanted to. That was over three years ago now but at least we know the terrible secret of the Paulding lights as a result.  
  
I picked up the phone and called one of the remaining two people who knew all my secrets. "Hey...yeah, had that dream again, can't sleep. Can you meet me at O'Shaughnessy's? Great, I'll be there in twenty minutes."  
  
O'Shaughnessy's was my hang out, a cop bar. Sometimes Kate and I went to the latest incarnation of Caritas since we could talk demony stuff without worry but I didn't feel like talking about that tonight so O'Shaughnessy's would do. The Guinness was room temperature and the ambiance desperately Irish but they knew me. They didn't think my i.d. was fake. Detective MacDermot was well known to them. Once Wes helped me establish my identity as Connor MacDermot, I decided to try to keep people like Witherington from taking away someone else's Amber Rose. I became a cop and a good one. Now I'm a homicide detective and I like my work.  
  
Kate was waiting for me at our usual table, near the dart boards, real ones with sharp metal darts, when I made it to the pub. I felt guilty about asking her here. She was fifty-something and didn't need to be out at all hours. Her blonde hair was streaked with ash, pulled into a tail. A fine web of wrinkles surrounded her eyes and lips but she was still pretty. Kate had had her own private detective agency for a while after she left the force. Then she joined up with Wes and Angel to fill in the spaces left by Fred, Cordy and Gunn. I met her through Wes and we've been friends and confidantes ever since. I swung by the bar first, picking up my pint that Colleen started pouring the moment she saw me entering, then she poured me a second without asking. I must have looked really rough. I leaned against the elaborately carved, dark wood as the Guinness all but oozed from the tap. Colleen told me her father had imported the actual bar from a pub in Ireland. You could practically feel its age thrumming in the wood.  
  
I sat with Kate. "Sorry for dragging you out here."  
  
Kate had a little line of shots of Irish whiskey lined up, ready for our consumption. We honestly weren't the hard drinking cop cliche. She drank rarely, having gotten on the bad side of a bottle and drugs after her father was killed. I didn't drink heavily normally. Dad did when he was mortal and the less like him I acted, the better. She smiled at me. "You say that every time. I'm getting older, not ancient or dead, Connor. I can keep a friend company."  
  
"I just wish...why won't these dreams go away? It's so far in the past now. It's not like I even feel guilty over Witherington." I let a good swallow of Guinness slide smoothly down my throat.  
  
"You do about-"  
  
"I know." I broke in and she shot me an apologetic look. I polished off my first pint and started the next. "But it wasn't my fault and I know that. Jasmine had me under her control." That was true. Wes had thought I wasn't under Jasmine's control because I knew what she looked like. I could see her for what she was because she was my daughter but that didn't make me immune to her mind control. Our shared blood merely made me immune to the cure.  
  
I would always feel horrible guilt for the murder of the girl whose name I would never known. Most of my adult life had been lived in atonement for that. I hated not being strong enough to break free of Jasmine's hold, loosen myself from my psychosis. I had been everyone's pawn up until I came back to myself. That's why I chose the name MacDermot. It meant 'free man.' I liked deluding myself into thinking that's what I was. And for the most part it was true. I lived life the way I wanted to, on my own terms but there were shackles on me. Angel's name was stamped into every link and I could hear them rattling through everything I did.  
  
"I wasn't talking about her." Kate locked eyes with me. "I think you're filled with regrets and guilt over your relationship with your father."  
  
I snorted and drank some more stout.  
  
"I'm serious, Connor." Her strong hand closed over mine. Her fingers were calloused and warm but I pulled away. I didn't want comforted. "You're a detective, Kate, and a good one. But you're not a psychologist so leave it."  
  
"Bullshit. A good hunk of detective work is psychology and you know it," she challenged.  
  
I bit at the cuticle of my thumb like I was wont to do when nervous. I couldn't meet those pretty blue eyes. She would make me feel like I was that scared little boy I once was if I looked at her. "Kate, I hate him. I know that puts you in a bad position, just like Wes and Buffy. I know it's hard being friends with me and Dad and not being able to reconcile us."  
  
She leaned on the age-warped wood of the table. "That's because you're a pig-headed Irishman."  
  
I canted my eyes to meet hers then dropped them back to my pint glass. I did one of the shots of whiskey. "Maybe so."  
  
"He's not going to give up on you," she said, softly. I sighed heavily. "I just wish he would."  
  
"You know better."  
  
She was right. I did. Dad called me every week and told me what was going on in his life. Well, he told the answering machine at any rate since I never picked up. He sent me emails that I deleted but not before reading. He sent me holiday cards and birthday presents. Until that, I hadn't even known when I was born. I never thanked him, never acknowledged his efforts. The few times I had spoken to him, I told him how much I hated him. When I walked out on his wedding, he cried silently as he watched me go. Maybe Kate was right. I had my bone-crushing dream because I felt guilty over Dad and I hated him so much I couldn't even have him in my dreams. I was a wicked creature but what else could be expected of a bastard demon half breed?  
  
"He erased me, Kate. Like I never existed. Like he never wanted me."  
  
Her hand was across the table and back again so fast I couldn't stop her slap. My face stung from the concussion. "He did it because he loved you. You know this. He did what he thought would make you safe and happy because you were dying inside, Connor. Rotting and spreading your decay to others."  
  
Tears pricked my eyes. "He never fought hard enough for me, Kate," I whispered. "He just let me go. Every time things got difficult with me, he let me go." I scrubbed my hand over my eyes, trying to grind away the tears.  
  
"No one's ever going to convince you otherwise, are they?" Kate scowled at me. There was no pity in her eyes for me but I didn't really deserve any. "Maybe next time you have the dream, I won't come here."  
  
I nodded but I knew she would. She always would. I just polished off my Guinness silently. When I raised my glass to wiggle it at Colleen for a refill, I saw someone staring at me from the bar. She got up and came over to me. She might have been in her mid-twenties but her eyes were older. I couldn't tell if they were blue or green in this light. Her long, straight hair, a warm brown that kind of reminded me of Fred, brushed her belt as she walked. She was thin, nearly bustless, especially compared to Kate. Her wide mouth was set grimly and as she got closer I could see a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks.  
  
"I thought it was you." She clenched the leather file folder she seemed to be guarding with her life.  
  
"I don't know you," I said, thinking somehow she was familiar but I couldn't wade through the alcoholic fog blanketing my memory. I was well on my way to being toasted.  
  
She shook her head. "You wouldn't. I'm Dawn Nyhammer. I've been by your police station a few times but none of the detectives take me seriously."  
  
I was thinking, 'great, a nutcase. Just what I needed to make my night complete,' but what I said was, "So you've taken to hanging in cop bars to get our attention." Kate kicked me under the table for being a jerk but Ms. Nyhammer didn't seem to notice.  
  
Her lips tightened. "I know it's not ideal, kind of crazy or obsessed. I might just be the latter. Please, I'm only asking for five minutes of your time. My best friend is missing and I can't get anyone to listen to me."  
  
I glanced over at Kate then indicated one of the empty chairs. As this strange, almost fey woman sat, Colleen came by with refills for me and Kate. "I'm a homicide detective, Ms. Nyhammer. I'm not sure I can help you."  
  
"I think you can," she said, her eyes brooking no arguments. She set the file down on the table carefully avoiding the wet rings from the pint glasses. "I think Maribel is dead."  
  
I studied her even more intently, curious now. "Why do you think that?"  
  
"You'll see." She started her story. From the way she spoke, I could tell she had told this tale a hundred times. "Maribel and I went to college together in New York. She ended up teaching in Los Angeles while I stayed in New York. Seven years ago, she started dating this real jerk, Sean Jury. I hated him but what could I do? I had my own job and husband to worry about. Maribel called me every week, emailed me almost every day. But she never told me how bad it was until I saw her at a show in here in L.A. The bastard was beating her. I tried to convince her to leave but she was pregnant. To me that was all the more reason to go but she wanted to stay and be a family." Her face started crumbling but she regained control. Her hands closed into fists, pulsating with rage.  
  
I nodded. Family, something that had been my holy grail, had become something of a dirty word. Family was where I started most of my homicide investigations. It was all too often where they ended. How many young women did I watch being loaded into body bags after their men had killed them, men they wouldn't leave because they were the head of the family?  
  
"After the baby was born, she called me, terrified. Could I come get her." Nyhammer's voice broke and she wiped away some tears. "God, why didn't I go? I couldn't make it for some reason that I can't even remember now. Maybe it was simply because I wanted her out of there fast and there was a whole country between us. I wired her the money to get the bus so she and her son could join me."  
  
"She never caught the bus," I guessed, watching her play with her wedding ring. It was an impressive diamond.  
  
"No. When she didn't pick up the money, I called her boyfriend. He told me that Maribel had just left him and he didn't know where she was. I didn't believe him. I managed to convince the police to at least look into it. She didn't give notice at work that she was quitting but since she had filed domestic abuse charges before they assumed she had had enough and took off. But I found out that Maribel left behind her son. She would never have left Javier, never." Nyhammer's eyes flashed fire at the very thought. "That's when I knew he had killed her."  
  
"But without a body, no one is listening to you," I said.  
  
She nodded her head, struggling to rein in her emotions. "There's an open missing person's file but that's it. No one's looking into it any more. I've done so much work, found so many leads but I'm not a detective. I can't do any more. Please, help me."  
  
She pushed the file folder to me. I opened it up and saw bundles of work inside; tablets filled with who knew what, phone bills, cards from all sorts of women's shelters and people locators, all arranged meticulously by month and year. Obsession didn't cover it.  
  
I looked into her eyes and saw she expected rejection. "I just don't know what you expect me to do. We don't know there's been a murder or even one that's in my jurisdiction. The best I can do is hand this right over to Kate, here. She's a private detective." I felt I was more than fair with that. Kate was a good detective even if this was more normal than she was used to dealing with at Angel Investigations. Empathetic sadness bubbled up in me for Ms Nyhammer. Her story was all too common but no less tragic.  
  
"I don't have enough money for that. The phone bills...I'm so far in debt now. My husband has had more than enough of this. If I tell him I have to hire a detective..." Dawn's face lost all color. "I didn't want to do this. I know if I say this, you'll think I'm nuts and never listen to me."  
  
"You might as well tell me," I said. "As it stands, there's nothing I can do."  
  
She took her folder and flipped it to the back. She pulled out a transcript, handing it to me. "It's from a psychic. I contacted her and she described in detail where Maribel is buried. I checked. It's your jurisdiction."  
  
I wanted to laugh. I should have. She was expecting it. That's what most policemen would have done. But I knew psychics were real. Okay, most of them were frauds, living off their clients like ticks and ruining it for the real ones. But dare I take the risk? My partner was going to be looking at me like I was the insane one if I mentioned this. I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and fished out my business card, handing it to her. "Can I borrow your files for the night?"  
  
She seemed shocked. She took my card with trembling fingers. "You believe me?"  
  
"I believe you're extremely concerned for your friend and I don't like what you're telling me about this guy. Let me look at what you have here and you can call me tomorrow night."  
  
Tears started pouring from her eyes and she actually leaned over the table and hugged me. She took out the empty pint glasses but didn't seem to notice. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. Take Kate's card, too. If I can't help you, maybe you two can work something out."  
  
Dawn dutifully took Kate's card. "I'm not crazy, Detective MacDermot. And this psychic, well, you'll see for yourself, I guess. Thank you," she said again then headed out of the bar.  
  
"Well, that was weird," I said, thumbing through the psychic's transcript as I drank.  
  
"You're telling me." There was something odd in Kate's voice, a strange gleam in her eye like she knew something I didn't. She had been quieter than usual, too. I shrugged it off as my usual paranoia muddied by my over indulgence in the water of life. "Want some help going over that stuff?"  
  
"If you don't mind."  
  
Kate didn't. We headed back to her place so we'd have room to spread out and mull over everything until the wee hours of the morning. In the past things might have gotten friskier. Nothing like good sex to take my mind off my dreams. But Kate was seeing someone now and we had a puzzle to keep us occupied. A mystery was almost as thrilling as sex to both of us and there was plenty of mystery to be found in Nyhammer's painstakingly compiled folder. 


	2. Regrets

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin John Webster - Duchess of Malfi  
  
CHAPTER TWO - DAWN At times life is wicked and I just can't see the light A silver lining sometimes isn't enough To make some wrongs seem right Whatever life brings I've been through everything And know I'm on my knees again Creed- Don't Stop Dancing  
  
It was going on two in the morning when I made it back to the gaudily painted Queen Anne house that Buffy and Angel called home. Buffy had decided she didn't want to live in a hotel so the Hyperion became strictly a place of business. This home told the world Angel had some money to his name hidden somewhere. Round turrets and curvaceous lines dominated the structure, like the house wanted to be a voluptuous woman. Possessing a turret at either end, the house dominated the quiet, green street. A deep blue washed the walls. Perky yellow, white and lavender trim played in the gingerbreading and swirled cloud-like over the wrap-around veranda. I had to wonder if Lorne had a hand in picking the colors.  
  
It was a beautiful home and it stayed that way thanks to a spell the Furies had put on it. It extended nearly the entire block. No demon violence allowed. Of course it also handicapped Angel but not Buffy just in case someone got the bright idea to send in humans.  
  
Buffy had been a little miffed about the whole procedure. She was okay with the spell. It was the three weird sisters casting it that set her off. She wanted to know what Angel had done to them that kept them drooling and sighing his name so erotically it made most everyone around them either want to drop trou or go to confession. Xander had been amused by it but probably because Angel was in dutch with my sister. And it didn't help matter that neither Angel nor Wes had ever thought to call us in Sunnydale and give Willow or Giles the spell. Mom's home and our pocket books would have been the better for it. Xander said the spell made him useless with nothing to fix. He never gets that his carpentry skills aren't the most important thing about him. Of course, he's now research guy for Angel Investigations, does most of the clerical, too. It's so easy to get his goat, just call him the secretary.  
  
Reflecting on tonight, I felt terrible on one hand and hopeful on the other. I had finally getting someone to listen to me about Maribel but it was marred because I hadn't been completely truthful with Connor. I couldn't let that matter. I needed to find justice for Maribel. She had been my best friend, like family, and my family understood my obsession with finding her body and making Sean answer for his crime. My husband was another story. He didn't understand. This was the final nail in our marriage's coffin. If he hadn't filed for divorce by the time I got back to New York, I would.  
  
I hated not being up front with Connor. I should have just said, 'Hi I'm Dawn Summers-Nyhammer, Buffy's sister. I was told by the best psychic on the Watchers' Council that Maribel's body was walled up in a small theater in your jurisdiction. Please find her. Her son deserves to know that his mom didn't desert him.'  
  
But Buffy and Angel were worried that Connor would refuse because I'm close to Angel. Wes thought it was nonsense, since Connor was close to most of Angel's friends except for Buffy. There was something weird between them that I didn't understand. She didn't trust him, even though she's worked with him for years. There was more to it than just how badly he treated Angel but Buffy wouldn't talk to me about it. Kate concurred with Wes. I should have listened to them over my sister. Still, I tried the normal route at the police station and no one would do more than to direct me to missing persons. Kate would help investigate, too, even if Connor couldn't do anything. When Connor had called her to hang out tonight she had called me to tell me where they were and how best to approach him. It worked, at least until he learns who I really was. If he called me on the deception I could just tell him I didn't realize it was important what my maiden name was. We'd both know it was a lie.  
  
I heard voices as I kicked my shoes off in the foyer and put them by the hall tree. There was a Victorian feel to the home and I know that was none of Buffy's doing. Angel or Lorne or both probably had a hand in it. Of course, the warm walnut wainscotting that ran through the home helped that feeling grow along with the furniture choice and the dense, period colors that changed from room to room like a fractured rainbow. I had offered to help since I had had design classes in art school but my input hadn't been needed.  
  
Buffy and Angel were waiting up for me. No surprise there. They were on the couch looking like old marrieds, watching late night television. Angel was stretched out on the couch in jogging pants that Buffy probably got him since I never seen him tend toward the informal. Buffy cuddled in against him in loose shorts and a tank top. I didn't blame her. The summer night was warm and they didn't have air conditioning. The house was too old, too difficult to install it. Besides when you slept next to the living dead, they provided all the cool down that was needed or so I've been told.  
  
Bainsidhe lifted her black head from the rug she was sleeping on, eyed me wearily then flopped down. Some watch dog she was. One of Angel's grateful customers had been a breeder of champion Labrador Retrievers and had gifted him with a puppy. Bainsidhe's Dark Howl was their surrogate child, spoiled, sweet, smart and stuffed like a great black pig. Buffy glanced over at me. She was finally putting on just a little weight. She was looking healthy for the first time in years.  
  
"How'd it go?" Buffy sat up, pinning Angel with her back to the couch. I could see concern in her bluish eyes.  
  
I flopped down on the love seat. Bainsidhe thought about getting up for a hello scratch then decided it was too much effort. "He took the file, said he'd look into it." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I should have just been honest with him."  
  
"And he might not have helped," Buffy said sternly.  
  
"It's his job. He'd have done it," I argued even though I knew technically it was still missing persons or a cold case detective's problem. "And he might change his mind about helping me now if he finds out I wasn't honest with him."  
  
"How were you not honest? You told him you were Dawn Nyhammer, that's the truth," Buffy said but she knew that was beside the point.  
  
"Yeah, but not for much longer," I mumbled and wished I hadn't. Buffy and Angel's faces went sad. I hated seeing Buffy sad. When she was sad, you could see the tiny lines around her eyes and lips, the only real sign she was in her mid-40's. Wes said it was most likely her Slayer healing powers keeping her so young looking. No one knew for sure since no Slayer had ever lived so long before. No one had a clue as to why I still look like I'm in my early twenties, virtually unchanged since my college days. The general consensus is when you're really a ball of energy made flesh you can expect some differences from mainline human.  
  
"Oh, Dawn, I'm sorry." Buffy got up and sat with me, giving me a hug.  
  
"There's no hope?" Angel sat up and reach out to give my hand a squeeze.  
  
I shook my head. "Not really. I'm okay with it. I knew, didn't I? I knew that marrying a man totally out of this life, this weird world of ours, could be a problem. We tried for nearly seven years but it's over. Between art shows and Watcher duties, I'm never home." I remembered the day I told Buffy I was going to be a Watcher. She had been furious but I think she knew deep down, I had to do it. I couldn't ignore what I knew about the world and I couldn't not help. "Besides, Tom wants kids."  
  
"And that's a problem," Buffy said, her look of sorrow deepening. I think she wanted desperately to be an aunt. A pregnant Slayer is a dangerous thing so all of them did everything they could to prevent it. Too high risk for losing the baby and their own lives too. Who can fight with a huge baby belly?  
  
Buffy had to live her few baby fantasies through me. I kept telling her Xander's kids would have to do for living vicariously. He seemed to be doing well with wife number three, Dascha, an Ex-Slayer. She proved the upper limit of a Slayer's healing abilities didn't include regeneration of an arm. She and Xander had three kids and he had a daughter by wife number one as well. Goodness, little Xavierra was twelve already.  
  
"We've all discussed this. I'm not entirely human. The monks made me human enough to have a period, thank you very much, stupid monks," I said and Angel glanced away. So, it didn't take much to embarrass a nearly three hundred year old vampire. "But am I fertile? Or worse, what if I am? What kind of child might the Key make? We saw what the demon aspect of Cordy did to her children."  
  
"You're not a demon, Dawn," my sister reminded me, petting my hair.  
  
"No, but the principle is the same. I'd feel better not having kids. That worked okay for you. Beside I'm getting too old to have kids." It really had never been a big issue for me. I didn't want kids, never have. Buffy always said she didn't either but sometimes I wondered.  
  
"Well, I'm still sorry that is has come to this, Dawn. Divorce isn't easy," Buffy said. My sister might never had been divorced but she knew all about crappy relationships and lovers leaving you, sometimes before they actually did it physically. In that respect me and Tom were a lot like her and Riley.  
  
"Sometimes it's for the best." I sighed. "It's not like Tom and I had a bad marriage. We've just grown apart. I was lucky to have a man who put up with my weird hours and my strange friends."  
  
"Your friends aren't strange," Buffy protested.  
  
"Xander is." Angel smirked and Buffy slapped him.  
  
I laughed, relieved for the break in the tension. "Yes, Xander is. And it's not like you're a fountain of normalcy, Angel."  
  
He pouted at me and I resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. Buffy had it just the way she liked it. In our everything old is new again fashion climate, we were back to the 80's in style. Angel had nixed the wild big hair but still it was probably for the best he couldn't see what Buffy had done to him. I wonder if he was familiar with The Cure's lead singer.  
  
"At least someone has finally listened to me. If Connor doesn't follow through then Kate will go look for the body. I just didn't want her to find the body and have to explain why she broke into the theater, pulled down a wall because a psychic told her to," I said.  
  
Angel nodded. "That would make things awkward." His dark eyes pinned me and they looked as sad as Bainsidhe's when someone wouldn't let her play in whatever water hole she had found at the time. "How did he look, Dawn?"  
  
I knew Angel would ask something like that. This was Angel after all. He seemed to enjoy torturing himself. I think he believed he deserved it. How had Connor looked? I had been so worked up when I went into the bar, I hadn't been able to focus on anything but Maribel. I had noticed the empty beer and shot glasses around him more than anything else and I hoped he wasn't too drunk to understand me. I filtered that out and tried to reconstruct him in my mind. I was good at that, remembering details. It was part of my art. "Tired, sad, scared," I said and Angel deflated. "Lonely. There was so much pain in his face, it could depress you just by looking at him. But." Should I even mention my other thoughts? Probably not. They weren't really relative.  
  
Seeing Connor in person brought up warring memories in my head; Buffy and Willow telling me how effeminate Connor looked and though his hair was shorter than they had described it only served to make him look like gay bait. His hair looked soft, almost rabbit-like and inviting to touch. In contrast to the girlish image were Faith's incendiary tales of their sex life. If she was to be believed, Connor was very acrobatic. I suspected it was true since Faith kept up a relationship with him for years when she kept her habit of one night stands up until she died. The story about rope rings over the lake stuck out in my mind but I wasn't telling Angel about any of that.  
  
"What?" Angel prompted.  
  
"I was thinking he was a little like me, unique and still trapped in body too young-looking for its actual years."  
  
"In another ten years, you'll be happy for that youth," Buffy said. I could see she wanted it to be a joke but it fell flat. If I looked this young in another ten years people would really wonder about me.  
  
I smiled for her anyhow. "True. Haunted. I guess that's the best word for Connor, and, on the plus side he was a little cuter than I thought he'd be." I added that to give Angel something more than gloom but it seemed to be the wrong things to say. Okay, I could have worded it better.  
  
"Cuter?" Angel's brow wrinkled. "You'd thought he'd not be cute?"  
  
I shrugged. I could practically see Angel falling into defensive dad mode but I couldn't understand why. Buffy had told me all she knew about Connor over the years. He was a real asshole to Angel. I couldn't understand why Angel would give a damn one way or the other about his son. The stories had almost made me not want to ask Connor for help but I'd do anything for Maribel. I guess that's fathers for you, though and thinking about fathers made me think of Giles.  
  
God, I missed Giles so much. He died too young. I don't care that he was nearly seventy. In this day and age, that's too young. Giles had once told me and Buffy one day when Buffy had been bitching about something nasty Connor had either said or done to Angel that fathers rarely give up on their children. I wasn't so sure about that bit of advice. I think my dad long ago gave up on Buffy and me. I had only seen him twice since Mom passed away. I'm not sure if he's even still alive. I don't honestly care. I had given up on him. Giles had been my dad in all the ways that counted but the biology.  
  
"Well, I've only seen a few photos and your drawings of him." I had only seen them once, having come upon them when I helped Angel move into this house. He was secretive with his art and especially his drawings of Connor. It was a shame. Angel had such talent. "I wasn't sure he was even a boy in those pictures."  
  
Angel's eyes bugged. "Of course he's a boy. How could you think he wasn't?"  
  
"Um, Angel, Willow once told me when she came here to restore your soul, she thought she had misunderstood Wes when he said you had a son. She thought she misheard the name Connie," Buffy said gently and Angel looked crushed. "Haven't you ever noticed? Connor has two ways of moving. His predator mode and when he's home and relaxed, he kinda moves like a woman. That nipped in waist of his is not helping the image."  
  
"What she said." I gave Angel an apologetic look.  
  
"He looks like a man to me," he grumbled.  
  
"I'm just surprised he didn't figure me out the minute I said my name," I said. "Dawn's not that common a name. You'd think it would have rung a bell. Are you sure he's a good detective?"  
  
Angel nodded. "I have newspaper clippings to prove it."  
  
Of course he did. Buffy had told me Angel cut out and saved all the newsprint on Connor who had solved a few high profile cases, kept online news, recorded bits from the TV news. He had a scrap book of everything Connor had done, or at least the stuff he could get hold of. It was sad in a way.  
  
"Well, I guess he was drinking and he was upset when I got there. Kate said he had his recurring dream again. She didn't explain what it was only that it tends to agitate him," I said. "But he took the file and when I call him tomorrow, I'm going to tell him I'm your sister, Buffy."  
  
She scowled. "I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
"By tomorrow, he might already know," I said. "If he is a good detective, he should. I'm exhausted, so if you'll excuse me I'm going to bed."  
  
They said their good nights and I dragged up to the guest bedroom. Killmouski was on the pillows. She cracked a eye open when I dislodged her after changing into a night gown but let me rearrange her on the bed. When I was settled, the pale blue and faded orange tortoise shell cat curled up next to me. Buffy hadn't set out to get a cat. Killmouski had shown up one day on the porch and refused to leave. She left many beheaded furry gifts. Eventually she pushed her way inside the house and took over. Killmouski loved only one thing better than hunting mice, hunting Angel. She didn't seem to like him much or maybe just had a fondness for leaping off of high places onto his head. Bainsidhe's only reaction to Killmouski was to lick her once, decide she wasn't edible, a real novel idea for Bainsidhe, and let the cat use her as a bed.  
  
I let my fingers play over Killmouski's soft fur as I thought about tonight. This could finally be it. I might actually be able to lay my friend to rest. I tried not to think about all the fun Maribel and I had in college. I'd only start crying again and I hated trying to sleep after I've cried. My nose gets all stuffy, leaving me snoring all night and I'd wake up with a sore throat. I tried to think of other things, like I should have showered before going to bed. I smelled like a pub.  
  
I tried to think about how excited I was to see Willow. She's be here soon. She still lived in London but she was due to arrive in a day for Buffy and Angel's tenth wedding anniversary. That was what brought me to LA as well. Asking Iris about Maribel had been a last ditch, spontaneous thing. I had dealt with Iris many times on Council problems but never thought to ask her to use her psychic powers for me. I wasn't surprised though when she came up with Maribel's resting place. I had to use what I knew even if I were here for happier things. I just couldn't think about that now, not if I wanted to get to sleep. I managed to banish most thoughts from my head as I chased sleep. The only thing I couldn't banish were a pair of big blue eyes watching me intently, almost harshly. Even in my imagination, Connor was going to be a jerk. So be it then. 


	3. Discovery

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin John Webster - Duchess of Malfi  
  
CHAPTER THREE Truth is its [justice's] handmaid, freedom is its child, peace is its companion, safety walks in its steps, victory follows in its train Syndey Smith - Lady Holland's Memoir vol 1. P. 29  
  
"Just so you know, if this goes bad, I'm telling the Brass you went nuts and I was playing along until it was safe to restrain you."  
  
I gave my partner a look of pure vinegar. She just snickered. "Thanks for the support, Nami."  
  
"Hell, you're the one who has us out here looking for more work, as if we don't have enough already." Nami flipped her raven hair back. It just brushed her shoulder and had a wispy quality to it that reminded me of a dandelion. "And all you'll tell me is you have an anonymous tip saying there's a woman's body walled up in a theater. That much won't even get us a warrant. I hope your sweet-talking skills are up to snuff."  
  
"Between my skills and your beauty how could they not give in and let us tear up their walls?" I grinned at her and Nami slapped me.  
  
"I'm not joking, skinny ass. There's definitely something not kosher about this. You're holding back." Nami glowered at me.  
  
'You have no idea,' I thought. I so hated keeping things from Nami. "Me?"  
  
"Don't even try the innocent eyes on me." Nami patted my head. It sort of sucked that I was shorter than my partner. "It doesn't work when they're all puffy and you look like you haven't slept all night. So, did you finally get a date? You need laid in the worst way."  
  
I could always trust my partner to speak her mind. She reminded me of Cordy in that respect but she was usually a little kinder than I've been told Cordy was wont to be. And Nami was right. I did need laid. "I was with Kate all night working."  
  
"So, that's what we're calling it. What's it with you and mommy figures? I'm going to start calling you 'Oedipus'."  
  
"Don't you dare." I wagged a finger at her, visions of me verbally sparring with Angelus surfacing for the first time in forever. "I don't have a thing for mother figures."  
  
"All the women you date are older than you," Nami shot back, "when you actually find a woman nuts enough to want you." "Oh, you're a barrel of laughs, Nami," I said, going into the theater. It was nearly our quitting time, such as it is. No one was at the theater until now. There was no getting a warrant with what we had, as Nami pointed out. The best I could do was talk to the director since the actual owner was a Japanese businessman in Kyoto who wanted a tiny piece of the action in L.A. I knew the director had no right to do what I was going to ask of him but I'd ask anyhow.  
  
The actors were already on the stage running their lines. Something told me this would be as close as they'd ever get to the big time. A roundish man with a grey pony tail, sitting third row center with a note pad on his knee, was most likely Mr. Graham, the director. He shot a look over his shoulder, hot at being interrupted then smoothed over as he most likely remembered inviting us here to talk.  
  
"Take five," he snapped at the actors, levering himself up with effort. "Detective MacDermot?"  
  
"Yes." I gestured at Nami. "This is Detective Asakura."  
  
"I'm curious why you called me and asked for this meeting." He waddled out of the row, coming over to us.  
  
"My partner can explain better than I." Nami gave me a look saying it had best be good.  
  
I took a deep breath. I had rehearsed what I was going to say. I just hoped I was a better actor than this crew. "I know this is going to sound a bit bizarre but we received an anonymous tip stating a young woman was walled up in this theater after she was killed. We couldn't contact the owner of the building but we were hoping..."  
  
"That I'll allow you to tear up this theater," Graham interrupted, his ruddy face going sweaty. "Are you nuts?"  
  
I resisted the urge to smile. It's been pointed out to me my smiles just make me look insane. "We do have good reason to believe the tip is accurate. The victim is a bonafide missing person."  
  
"And you have a warrant?" Graham asked, lucky me.  
  
I couldn't let him know that if he said no I'd have to turn around and leave. If I kept talking, I might be able to convince him to do things my way. That was a cornerstone of interrogation but it had places outside of the police station. "No, but we were hoping you'd be willing to assist us to help finding closure for her family. She has a young son."  
  
"I don't think-"  
  
"Oh, come on Graham," one of the young blonde actresses said, tossing her arms open wide, grinning. "It's an adventure." "It's dramatic," her shave-headed companion said, his mocha skin glowing under the lights. He jumped off the stage.  
  
Graham whirled on his actors, his belly jiggling. "I can't just tear down the walls."  
  
"We can," a third actress said firmly, turning directly to me. "Where is she?"  
  
I glanced at Graham whose porcine face was even ruddier then when we first saw him. He didn't like the loss of control but in his pale eyes gleamed something I would have qualified as rebellion. My pulse quickened just a bit with anticipation. I loved getting pieces of the mystery and putting them together. This would be the second and biggest part of this puzzle.  
  
"What the hell but let's do it carefully, everyone. We need to put it back the way we found it in case this is nothing but a circle jerk." Graham's grey piggy eyes pinned me, trying to bully me.  
  
"Thank you," I said and I meant it. I gave a little ground, let him think he won the point. Somehow I knew Ms Nyhammer's psychic was going to be right. I'm not sure why, other than between Cordy and Lorne I knew what a real psychic could do. Of course, some fraud could be taking advantage of Nyhammer's desperation but if my gut, backed up by a little research, was telling me the truth about her then the psychic was as real as they get and Ms. Nyhammer had some explaining to do.  
  
"So where do you think this poor woman is walled up?" Graham asked.  
  
"In hell," I said. To anyone other than a theater person, I'm sure I sounded facetious. Nami was giving me a look that said as much, but Graham's people moved into action. He bellowed a few names and a couple of men and a lady appeared from back stage.  
  
The young African-America actor who Graham called Arnick undid a clasp in front of the stage's base. The clasp, like all the walls, was painted a flat black. Tonya, an actress I had had a fling with years ago, had told me it was to keep the background neutral, to help shield the movement of the stage crew and to keep light from reflecting. It was almost depressing to look at, unbroken as it was now by a lack of props and backdrops.  
  
Arnick got the hell open and the stage hands Graham had sent after tools returned. Graham went under the stage first. I followed him into hell. I was surprised at the narrowness of the trap door that led from the stage into this hell. I'd hate to trust that if I were on stage. The room was musty, filled with cobwebs. It didn't appear it was used much.  
  
"Any ideas where to start?" Graham brushed a cobweb from his pony tail.  
  
I pointed to the far left corner. "There."  
  
"You heard the man."  
  
I watched the stage hands start trying to pry the boards free with the actors offering encouragement like this was some odd role-playing game.  
  
Nami leaned close and whispered, "I can't believe you got them to agree." "Didn't even need your beauty," I whispered back. The fire in her dark eyes promised when we were alone I'd be wearing my ass as a hat. I was surprised at the enthusiasm they put into removing the boards. I guess I should have anticipated the flare for the dramatic in theater people. Three boards came off before I said, "That's enough. I should be able to see in."  
  
The blonde actress, Penny, moved away quickly. "Good...I was afraid...I wanted to see but now, if she's really in there, I'm not sure I could handle that."  
  
"And it smells funny," Arnick said, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"I wouldn't want you to see, Penny." I pulled out my flashlight. Nami had her camera ready. She had gotten it herself, the most recent digital camera she could afford. It wasn't that we didn't trust the CSU's photographer. It was just ingrained in us, 'do for yourself.' It never hurt to have back ups. I crouched by the opening and shone the light in. I didn't have to, to know she was behind the boards. I knew the smell of decay even if it was old. Bones gleamed as my light hit them, brown bits of flesh clung to them, adipose tissue that had turned to soap, more or less. I traced the bare arm to where her shirt covered it, black with white roses. I moved the light up, highlighting her skull. A shock of matted black hair had slid back off her head to puddle like a ragged halo.  
  
"She's in there, isn't she?" Nami tried not to sound shocked.  
  
"Call CSU," I replied, turning away. "Mr. Graham, I'm going to have to ask you and your people to please leave this area."  
  
Penny was already gone, nearly knocking herself out cold on the low door of hell.  
  
"You're going to close us down, aren't you?" Graham herded his people out from under the stage while Nami took my spot at the hole so she could take some preliminary photos. Accusation rang in his voice.  
  
"Hopefully you'll only be down for tonight," I said. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."  
  
Surliness descended on him momentarily. "I suppose I can't complain too much. You said she had family who've been wondering all this time."  
  
"Exactly. Thanks for your help."  
  
His porky lips perked up. "If nothing else, it's publicity for the theater."  
  
Morbid, but true. "The informant said the victim's been dead for five years. Do you know who might have been here at that time?"  
  
"I've been the director for twelve years." He thought for a moment then added, "Some of my crew has been here nearly that long."  
  
"Do you have any employee records five years back? Actor names, too." I sounded eager and I was. No one just wandered into an unknown building and walled someone up. Dump yes, took the time to conceal, doubtful. The killer might have some connection to this place or its people. He felt comfortable here, at home enough to sneak under the stage and do his dirty work.  
  
"That's all in my office. I'll look for it. The quickest way would be to get the playbills from then and go off of that," Graham said.  
  
"Perfect, thank you. I'll be waiting here for the crime scene unit. You might want to let your people go once my partner and I get everyone's name and number so we can talk to them if we have to," I replied.  
  
That done, I waited for Nami to crawl back out of the hell, camera in hand. She dusted off her suit, a dark, understated blue. Neither she nor I would give in to fashion and wear the too-popular ice cream colored suits on duty. I don't care what Don Johnson did nearly forty years ago. That was tv and this is reality and I don't look good in peach. Teal's another story according to Kate. Nami agrees. I still say it isn't happening.  
  
"Why can't you ever get a hot tip on the races or something?" She brought the camera over for my inspection.  
  
"I was born under an unlucky star," I replied, taking a look at the photos. The camera's flash had highlighted even more detail. "Looks like she took a hell of a beating."  
  
"Plenty of broken bone, just from what little I can see," Nami said, sitting beside me. This close, I could see the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks, which always seemed odd to me on an Asian face. Having met Nami's mother, a retired Air Force colonel, it made sense. Kirsten was six foot and so blonde she was nearly albino. Even her eyes were nearly colorless. Nami took after her father with some of her mother's height.  
  
"Abusive relationship."  
  
"And you'd know that how? Care to tell me about this tip that never existed?" Nami's eyes slitted.  
  
My phone saved me. I held up a finger to her as I answered it. "You got it? Thanks, go ahead." I listened to the report on the searches I had initiated. It was just what I suspected. Now I had some hard questions for Ms. Nyhammer. I pocketed the phone.  
  
"Speak," Nami ordered.  
  
"I was approached by the victim's friend. She's been trying to get law enforcement to listen to her about her friend's disappearance for five years. No one paid her any mind. She's always maintained that her friend was murdered. She complied one hell of a file on it. But she had no idea where to look for the body until a psychic told her." I prepared myself for the punch I rightly deserved for keeping my partner in the dark but it didn't come. "Psychic?" she hissed. "Connor, are we suddenly in an episode of X- Files:Rediscovered? You came here, tore this place up, because a psychic told you too?"  
  
I shrugged. "She was right."  
  
"We're not waiting until tomorrow to talk to this tipster," Nami said and the look in her almond eyes said she thought the obvious. My tipster knew where the body was because she put it there. "I don't care if we work all night."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
As we waited for CSU, we went back to Graham's office to check on his progress on the paperwork. Once CSU was done and copies of all the playbills and employee records that hadn't been tossed were made, we made sure our victim was loaded onto the bus with a note to the medical examiner to send for the dental records of Maribel Garza. Too bad Dawn didn't know the victim's social security number, to help insure we got the right Garza's dental records, but did give me her last place of employment and the phone number for the girl's sister, Lissette. Between them we should be able to get that critical piece of information. I led the way back to my car. Nami was still quiet, a sure sign she was mad at me. After a while, she noticed I wasn't driving back to the station.  
  
"We're not going back to the house?" Her voice snapped like a whip.  
  
"I know where Ms. Nyhammer is, or at least I think I do."  
  
"You have her phone number. You're not going to call and have her meet us at the station." Nami's brown eyes sparked. "Or are you hoping catching her off-guard will shake things loose?"  
  
I gave her an air point. "That's the plan."  
  
"Do you think she killed her friend?" Nami's voice carried doubt like a shroud.  
  
I wagged my head, dodging around a little old blue hair's car which was puttering down the road. "No, it would be crazy to point out such a good hiding place. The victim could have been there for decades otherwise."  
  
"So this psychic is the real thing?" Nami rolled her eyes at me.  
  
"Is that so hard to believe?" I asked. "You believe in ghosts and all sorts of other silly stuff you see in horror movies."  
  
"I believe in ghosts but not things I see in horror films, like vampires for example," Nami corrected me.  
  
I tried not to laugh. "Fine. Anyhow, I've done a background search on both Nyhammer and her psychic. I don't think the psychic has ever been on the west coast. I have Nyhammer's records that she compiled in the trunk. I'll give it to you later. It'll explain it better."  
  
"So why does this neighborhood look familiar?" Nami pointed out the window.  
  
"You came out here once with me when my sister-in-law got hurt badly and Wes and I came out here to bring her some get-well goodies." I wasn't sure when Buffy decided that she was my sister-in-law and Angel was my brother but it worked should I ever be so unfortunate to be around Angel in public.  
  
"So we're coming here because?" Nami's lip was curling. She was losing patience.  
  
"Let's just say Nyhammer is close to Buffy."  
  
"So why the subterfuge? Why not just ask you straight out for help?"  
  
"Don't know." I shrugged watching two young boys dart out into traffic on their bikes. "Probably because I hate my brother and my sister-in-law knows it. They'd never think to just give me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing my job."  
  
"If she's family, Connor, you're the last person who should be investigating this," Nami said, reminding me of proper procedure.  
  
I shook my head, trying to find the right road. It had been so long since I'd been to Dad's. "I've never met Nyhammer until last night. She's Buffy's sister if the background check is correct but she's a complete stranger to me."  
  
"I'm not liking this."  
  
"You're not alone."  
  
Nami fell back into a moody silence which lasted until I pulled up in the drive to Dad's house. I got out first, made sure my badge was out and visible on my belt. I wanted to give them no doubt I was there on business. The 9mm I had would probably do that on it's own. I pushed the door bell. It was dark so either of them could answer the door but it opened to Buffy. Her eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. I hadn't seen her since Giles' funeral or should I say one of the viewings. I didn't make it to the grave side ceremony because of an invasion of Child Guzzelers that I had to deal with along with two of the other Slayers.  
  
"Connor, what are you doing here?" Her eyes canted over to Nami but she didn't look too surprised to see my partner.  
  
"I think you know, Buffy. Is Ms. Nyhammer here?" I asked.  
  
Buffy bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Come in." "You remember my partner," I said, going into the foyer with Nami following.  
  
"Yes." Buffy gave me a questioning look. Her expression said she knew it was bad news but I volunteered nothing nor did Nami.  
  
Buffy led us into the living room. Angel was in a chair and he saw us first. He seemed surprised but I'm sure I did, too. What the hell had happened to his hair? Dawn trailed off whatever she was saying, following his gaze. She got up, casting wary looks between me and Nami. I could tell she wasn't expecting us and was off-balanced. Good. That was exactly what I wanted, hoping she'd be less guarded and more open to the hard questions.  
  
"I...I thought you were going to call. How did...you know, don't you?" She trembled. I could see the stress in her eyes and it was mounting quickly.  
  
I didn't bother to answer the obvious. "This is my partner, Nami Asakura. I'm sorry to tell you this, Ms. Nyhammer, but we found a body exactly where you said we would."  
  
Her knees went a little weak and Dad was on his feet, catching her before she collapsed. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand.  
  
"We're very sorry," Nami repeated.  
  
"Thank you for coming out here to tell her in person," Buffy said, moving past us to take her sister in her arms.  
  
I wrinkled my nose, suddenly a little less happy about having to do my duty. Damn it, it was proper procedure, to hell with the fact Buffy and Angel wouldn't like it much that I was upsetting Dawn. "We would like you to come with us to the station and answer some questions, Ms. Nyhammer," I said and the reactions were immediate and exactly what I expected.  
  
"What?" Dad barked, his arms enclosing Dawn and Buffy tightly. "Why?"  
  
"Dawnie, you don't have to go anywhere." The look of loathing in Buffy's eyes for me was more than the situation warranted. What had I done wrong now?  
  
"She's absolutely right, Ms. Nyhammer," Nami said. "You aren't under arrest. It's just a request."  
  
"Why?" Dawn managed to squeak out. I felt sorry for her.  
  
"You are the closest link we have to the victim, if indeed this turns out to be Maribel Garza," I said, taking a few steps closer, half-expecting Buffy to break free of Dad and hit me. "And if nothing else, you had knowledge of where a body was disposed of. You've come this far to help your friend. Surely you're not going to stop now," I added.  
  
"Can't you talk to her here?" Angel asked. "We could but it would be more conducive back at the station," I said. "We have to get the whole chain of events down and input the details into the computer. It'll save time we could use for investigation if we don't have to do it twice."  
  
"Does it have to be now? You just told her her friend is dead," Buffy snapped, smoothing Dawn's hair.  
  
"That is the unfortunate part of our job," Nami said. "It's best done when fresh in one's mind."  
  
"What fresh? Maribel disappeared years ago." Buffy stalked up to me, daring me to naysay her.  
  
"We just need clarification on some of the details in Ms Nyhammer's file," I replied.  
  
"Dawn, her name is Dawn and you damn well know it." Buffy shoved me and Dad reached out to pull her back. Buffy escaped his questing hand. Technically I could take her in for that but I let it pass, holding a hand up to keep Nami quiet.  
  
"Really? She did a good job of only giving me half a story. Now I'd like the other half if she doesn't mind. I know it's hard right now but it's needed," I said that directly to Dawn.  
  
"It's okay." Dawn broke away from Dad. "I want to help. I'll go with them. They're right. It needs to be done. It's not like I didn't know this was coming."  
  
"Thank you." I waved a hand toward the front door. Dawn came with us willingly much to Buffy's ire, I don't doubt.  
  
We let her sit and cry silently in the back seat of our car. We escorted her into the station to an interrogation room. Dawn squirmed in her seat. The room was dull grey and mostly empty except for a computer chained to the wall, a table and chairs but still managed to be intimidating.  
  
"Is there anything we can get for you, Ms. Nyhammer?" Nami asked. "Something to drink?"  
  
"Could I have some water?" She rubbed her reddened nose with a tissue. "And could you please call me Dawn?" "Of course." I passed the file I had rescued from the trunk to Nami.  
  
Before I could go get her some water, there was a knock at the door. It opened immediately. A man, barely taller than me, came in. He ran a nervous hand through his brown hair. It had gotten more streaked with white this past year than ever before. I could tell he didn't want to be in here from the look in his blue eyes.  
  
"Counselor?" I asked.  
  
"Um, sorry," Lindsey McDonald said. "Dawn, your sister asked me to get you some help. I'm going to send for Liz Silberman. She's an excellent defense attorney."  
  
"Why? She's not under arrest. Dawn can walk out of here any time she wants. She doesn't need a lawyer," I said, wanting to put my fist through a wall, a perfectly good substitute for my family.  
  
"She wants to talk to us," Nami added.  
  
Lindsey looked at Dawn who nodded. "It's okay, Lindsey. I don't need a lawyer. I'm not a suspect, right?"  
  
"Right but she does know who the primary suspect is and she's here to tell us about it. You bring in a lawyer and an already cold case is going to get a whole lot colder," I growled.  
  
"Fine." Lindsey seemed relieved. He passed a card to Dawn. "That's her number if you change your mind."  
  
Lindsey let himself out and I followed, shutting the door behind me.  
  
"What the hell was that about?" I asked.  
  
He turned to face me, his shoulders slumping. "Look, Buffy called me and said you dragged Dawn out of her house and that she needed help."  
  
"That's because Buffy's being an overprotective bitch. She was the one who sent Dawn to me in the first place."  
  
Lindsey shook his head. "Actually it was Kate. Buffy wanted Kate to do it."  
  
My eyes narrowed. I knew Kate had been acting funny yesterday. "Whatever. You tell Buffy you did your best. Dawn neither wants nor needs a lawyer and if she gets in the way of my investigation again I'm going to knock her down."  
  
"Look I want out, too. I'm the riding D.A. on this and I don't need any conflicts of interest as it is," Lindsey said and I didn't blame him. I've worked with Lindsey for the last five years. He had retrained or whatever lawyers did when they changed directions and now he was a prosecutor for L.A. county. "You really have a suspect? This case is over five years old."  
  
"I know. I'm still waiting on the M.E. but if that body turns out to be Maribel Garza's then yes, I do, her husband. Dawn told me Garza's husband was abusive and she was trying to leave him when she disappeared. He told anyone who'll listen she ran off and left him and their son. Once I get confirmation on the victim's identity, I have a trail to start down."  
  
"Good," he said, heading down the corridor.  
  
"And Lindsey, for interfering with my case I'm going to get Kate to kick your ass," I said.  
  
His blue eyes widened. "Don't do that." I just gave him one of my flat, cold smiles and went into the break room to get Dawn a bottled water. I got two for Nami and me. By the time we were done questioning Dawn, we'd all be tired and thirsty. 


End file.
